You cannot outswim me
by KahlanPendragon
Summary: Flat 221b is being turned upside down preparing for the fall. Belle Astore manages to catch the eye of the two enemies, Sherlock and Moriarty. But who will win her, the cold, crime solving detective or the obsessive psychopath?
1. Mycroft being a drama queen

John and Sherlock stood in one of the corners of the huge ballroom.

"How tedious" Sherlock drawled to John. "I really do hate occasions such as these"

John glared at him. "I don't see why I had to come. You said it would be dangerous"

"I lied" Sherlock's lips curved at the side, a small smile.

"Did you see the bouncers eyebrows raise when he saw I was your plus one? It's, embarrassing Sherlock, people are going to talk"

"Oh, let them talk!" Sherlock rolled his eyes "Really John. I needed your support"

"It's your brother, Sherlock"

"Exactly. I don't want to be here for his congratulatory party. Just because he's a bit higher up, got more money, saved some buildings and blah de blah doesn't have anything to do with me" he scowled.

"Ladies and gentlemen" Mycroft began, on a stage at the front of the hall. The chandeliers twinkled down upon his slightly shiny brow. Anthea stood near him, blackberry in hand. Woman and men, all dressed up extremely fancy, looked at him.

"Firstly, I want to thank you all for coming. This is an extremely momentous occasion for me, as I have..." Sherlock zoned out of his brothers speech. What an attention seeker. John elbowed him in the side and he almost hissed.

"It always was a great honour for me to-" his speech was cut off by the wide doors opening. The doormen had opened to doors wide open to reveal a woman standing.

Everyone looked curiously at her. She had long, wavy red hair that curled down to her back. She was in a black lace dress that swirled around her knees, the arms three-quarter length. Her eyes were the deepest blue, and they blinked as she gave a little smile.

She walked down the stairs, her heels making a slight tap. Sherlock almost grinned that his brothers speech had been interrupted, and wanted to savour his brothers 'miffed' face. But as he turned with delight, he saw his brother positively beaming, eyes crinkled towards the young woman.

Mycroft finished his speech quickly "So, thank you again for your company, and have a splendid night. Thank you" people clapped, and went back to their conversations, a few kept their eyes on the woman. Mycroft strided up to her, giving her an air kiss on each cheek.

She said something to him, and he laughed. Sherlock frowned, his usually acute hearing failing him for one and music swelled up and couples began to dance.

"Oh, look Sherlock!" John said excitedly, and Sherlock whipped round.

"What?" he asked.

"They have shrimp!" John said, walking over to the buffet table. Sherlock rolled his eyes, then, after a few seconds, followed.

The party continued in full swing. Sherlock retreated back to the wall, eyes closed. John glanced around, when he saw the woman come up to him. After stuffing a sausages roll in his mouth, he punched Sherlock in the shoulder.

The woman came up to them, john, mouth hanging open, desperate trying to swallow his huge mouthful, and Sherlock, blinked frantically and looking around, trying to find his surroundings.

"hello" the woman said, smiling at them.

"hello, hi" john said, brushing crumbs off his jacket. Sherlock drew up to his full height, looked her up and down, then casually said "hey"

"I saw you and had to introduce myself" The woman, turning around and back "I've heard a lot of good stuff about you"

"I doubt that" Sherlock began "Flattered, but-"

"Oh, excuse me, Mr Holmes, but I was talking to Dr Watson" she said politely. Sherlock's eyes almost bulged out and John had shock on his face, before a smile plastered on his face, happy that Sherlock had made a fool out of himself in front of the pretty woman.

As Sherlock tried to accept the last statement, John held out his hand for the woman to shake.

"Dr Watson, my name is Belle Astore. I believe we had a mutual friend" she began "inspector Lestrade?"

"oh, Lestrade!" John said "Yeah, I sometimes work with him, great guy. How do you know him?"

She gave a little laugh. "Oh, Greg and I go way back" she said.

"Do you do drugs?" Sherlock asked bluntly.

"Sherlock!" John gasped, shocked. Belle curiously assessed him.

"Nope" she said, popping the P. "I'm guessing there was a reason for that outburst, unless you're awful at making conversation" she said, and John laughed, while stamping on Sherlock's foot.

"You're eyes" Sherlock pointed out "The pupils are much larger than a regular persons eye. Unless you're in love with someone in this room, or you do drugs, it's very unusual"

"I'm not a very 'usual' person, Mr Holmes"

Her phone went off, and she brought it out and glanced briefly at the text before holding out her hand to John, then Sherlock. He shook it reluctantly.

"lovely to meet you, John. I'll see you again, Mr Holmes" she said, before turning and heading out. On the way out she gave a nod to Mycroft, who suddenly retrieved his phone, put it to his eye, walking in another room.

Sherlock frowned.

"What have I told you about showing off your deductive skills, Sherlock" John sighed "she was perfectly lovely, and you were rude to her!"

"I wasn't rude to her, she snubbed me first. Insulted me"

"She didn't insult you Sherlock. Just once, someone wanted to talk to me, and you get annoyed because you jumped- to the wrong- conclusions!"

"something's wrong" Sherlock said, his eyes looking at Mycroft, who came out of the room, a frown on his face.

"What?" john said quickly, going into soldier mode.

"Firstly, that woman-"

"Belle" John interjected quickly.

"Fine. This... Belle, she gets a texts, and walks out. She obvious has a strong connection to my brother. Suddenly he gets a call- _and he takes it_- Mycroft never, ever takes calls out social events, he finds it rude and annoying. Now he's looking like... like" Sherlock grasped at the air for a word.

"Like he's lost a pound and found a penny?" John said.

"Exactly" Sherlock grinned "Another case, John! And a big one!" then, looking around the room, he turned to John and said "let's get out of here"

His phone went off, and he glanced at it. His blood seemed to chill and his heart pounded.

_Beautiful, isn't she?_

_-JM_


	2. All women confuse Sherlock

Back in the flat, John sat, reading a newspaper. The flat was in utter chaos, they hadn't had a cleanup in days. Sherlock was pacing. Mrs Hudson opened the door, eyes wide.

"What have you boys been doing in here?" she said, her voice shrill.

Cartons of junk food littered the food, dust lined the books on the shelf, dirty and clean clothes strewn everywhere. John hurriedly stood up, trying to block the damage from the landladies eyesight while Sherlock threw a few magazines on the overfilling desk, not helping at all.

"We'll clean up. Soon" John said, giving her puppy dog eyes. Her lips pursed.

"You'll do it now!" she said "You two must be the worst tenants I've ever had! Rubbish on the floor, stinking body parts and gunshots at ridiculous times in the morning!"

"On the contrary, Mrs Hudson, 2:45 is a perfectly reasonable time for a gunshot to go off" Sherlock mused "12 in the afternoon, however, could be odd..."

Mrs Hudson just shut the door, muttering as she walked the stairs.

"She's going to end up kicking us out one day, you know" John sighed as he threw a few things in the rubbish bin.

"no, she won't. I got her husband off a death charge once, I can use that against her" Sherlock grinned. "Now, I'll make a cup of tea, put the television on"

And John did. As Sherlock prepared the tea, the news came on.

"An explosion at Whitehall manner, where many were injured and killed. The prime minister had left, just hours before" the news reporter was saying. A crash came from the kitchen. John jumped up, alert, looked at Sherlock, who was standing, stock still, the shattered chine around his feet.

"Stand there, I'll get a broom" john sighed, then looked at Sherlock's face. "W- what's the matter?"

"It's where Mycroft was" Sherlock said, in a perfectly calm voice. He was staying at Whitehall manner. No time for tea now John, come on" he said, pulling on shoes, his coat and scarf and walking out. John paused a moment before scurrying after him.

Sherlock walked up to the scene, while John was talking to a policeman. The dust hadn't settled yet. It wasn't a peaceful, calm atmosphere of death and tragedy.

People were yelling, moving bricks, shouting orders and instructions. Sherlock managed to make his way under the tape. He didn't feel worried, nervous or sad. He supposed deep down, he knew Mycroft would've been okay. His brother was invincible.

Yet the little, tiny voice, the one Sherlock couldn't control, whispered. The sky was a dull gray, the air cold and wet, wind slapping at Sherlock's cheeks. John made his way over.

"What are we going to do?" John asked. Sherlock didn't reply, just grabbed his phone and flipped down the contacts. He selected Mycroft and rang him.

A shrill ringing from the left made both men look.

Belle Astore, covered in a bright orange blanket, was sitting talking calmly to a medic. She looked at the phone that was ringing in her hand, then, by some sixth sense, glanced over at Sherlock. She stood, and without swaying or dill-dallying made her way over to him. The ringing stopped.

"Why have you got my brothers phone?" Sherlock asked.

"Sherlock, Jeez, the woman's just been in an accident!" John chided. "Are you okay, Belle?"

"I'm fine, thank you John. Luckily, I was outside when the bomb went off. And to answer your question, Sherlock, Mycroft gave me his phone for safe-keeping"

"Mycroft always has it with him. Where is he?" Sherlock asked, blue eyes crashing into blue.

"I'm right here" Mycroft said calmly, from behind them. He didn't have a speck of dust on his crisp black suit. He nodded to John and Sherlock before gently grasping Belle by her shoulders.

"My dear, how are you?" he asked.

"M'fine, Mycroft. Honest. Here's your phone" she said, passing it to him.

"Thanks. Can't be tracked, over there" he said, confidentially. "Has _he _said anything?"

"I think this bomb is his way of saying hello" she scowled. "I left my new coat in there, what a shame. Not to mention all the lives lost" she added as an after thought.

"Excuse me" Sherlock interrupted to two immediately. "Would one of you mind telling me what's going on here? Because I don't like feeling left out" he said.

"Told you" Mycroft murmured to Belle "Just like a child"

"I wouldn't mind knowing, either" John added. The three of them just looked at him. "Right, I get it" he muttered.

John couldn't help feeling awkward. He didn't have large amounts of money, large amounts of beauty or in Sherlock's case, brains and genius. He was a simple, basic man, who liked action. He felt out of place. Yet Belle smiled at him, and he felt better.

"I think Mycroft should explain" she said.

"yes. Indeed. Well, a bit of Belle's history. She's been with us since, how old were you, Belle, sixteen? Yes, sixteen. She was going to go in the army but that's a waste for someone like her. She immediately climbed her way up the ladder of power, she's our best agent" Mycroft beamed at her, and Belle seemed to shuffle a little. Sherlock's hawk gaze picked this up, could she be... shy?

"Anyway, Belle mostly infiltrates. I decided to recruite her into our team, where her skills and brains could be put to good use instead of regular police work. But that's not the point. Recently, Jim Moriarty has... How do I put this? Noticed Belle. Taken a liking to her" Mycroft said.

"He text me" Sherlock said, and they looked at him "Telling me he thought you were beautiful" he said, looking at the girls face. She grimaced.

"I don't know what he wants, none of us do" she said "He's playing with us, keeping us on edge. He's planning something, I know it. Something big. Little things like this" she gestured to the collapsed building behind her "are just a distraction"

"I agree" Sherlock said, shocking everyone.

"Well, I don't know what to do" Mycroft said wearily "My dear, however... capable I or anyone else thinks you, you're simply too young to be dealing with this, and it's too dangerous. I suggest that you lay low for a little while. You're too precious to everyone to simply lose. Now, somewhere quiet where you can stay" he mused, catching Sherlock's eye, his face brightening.

"No" Sherlock said

"yes" Mycroft said.

"Really?" Belle raised her eyebrows

"What?" john asked, confused.

"Look's like I'm going to be staying with you a while" Belle nudged him.

"Is that okay with you, Belle?" Mycroft asked.

"I didn't say it was okay, it's not okay!" Sherlock inputted, Mycroft glaring at him.

"Sherlock, for once in your life, do something I tell you to! A young damsel is in distress, you need to help her!" he said.

Three weeks later, Belle was well and truly at home. She sat in the armchair sideways, her feet dangling over the arm. She was wearing nothing but an oversized band t-shirt, her hair wavy and natural as she read a book.

Sherlock kept huffing at her, and she carried on reading, sometimes bobbing her legs, flicking her hair, while Sherlock scrutinised her.

"Still trying to analyse her" John murmured as he typed away into his blog. Sherlock glared at him.

"I'm not as obvious as you think, John. Don't presume to know my mind"

"But you are, aren't you?" john asked.

"yes" Sherlock said through gritted teeth "And I get little things. Silly, unimportant things"

"Like what?" john asked as he sighed, looking away from his computer screen.

"Fingernails. Painted, nicely shaped. Would suggest she's very conscious of her image, except their chipped. And they're not even one colour!" he said, frustrated. Belle gave a little grin to herself.

"And her sleeping pattern is irregular. Sometimes she'll go to bed at 10 pm, sometimes not until 3 in the morning, symptoms point to insomnia but it doesn't fit. She switches beverages everyday, either hot chocolate or tea. She doesn't seem too confident, yet she doesn't wear many clothes in the flat. She can spend hours doing her eyebrows, hair and her outfit, then reads an arduous article of book, she just... She confuses me" Sherlock said, rubbing his eyes.

"She's a woman, Sherlock. All women confuse you" John said, turning back to his computer screen.

"Hey, I'm meeting Lestrade in an hour or two, you guys want anything from the shops while I'm out?" she asked, getting up and stretched.

"No, thanks though" John said politely. Sherlock seemed distracted by a side of her lacy underwear that had revealed itself.

"Yes. Get me some tea bags; we're out" he said bluntly.

"Sure" she yawned, walking into her bedroom.

"okay, what now?" John asked "we've just bought loads of tea bags, you don't need to make her go out and get some"

"Just checking that she really is going to the shops on her way, and not lying" Sherlock said, drumming his fingers on the air chair. John sat up, his face incredulous.

"Sherlock, you do realise how crazy you sound? Firstly, why would she be lying? And secondly, if she was, it would be none of your business!" And he got up and walked into the kitchen.

Sherlock slumped back into his seat. He was positive he was living with the two most difficult people on earth.

Belle came bouncing into the flat, a few bags of shopping in her hand, and a birght smile on her face.

"What's got you happy?" John asked as she patted him on the shoulder, setting her bags down next to the chair where she flopped in.

"I've got my first job!" she said "Well, 'real' job, anyway"

"What do you mean?" John asked "Mycroft said you worked for-"

"Well, as soon as I was young, I was picked up into the world of politics and police force stuff from the beginning. Sure, I worked hard, but I still felt like I missed out on everything, you know, my first job, paying late on the rent, stuff teenagers do. So, today I went out, and I now work in the little ice-cream shop round the corner" she said, still beaming, her blue eyes sparkling.

"Well, congratulations!" John said happily "We should go out, to celebrate. Restaurant or pub?" he asked. She thought about it.

"Mmm, I'm starving, so restaurant?" she asked.

"Great. I know a great Italian" he said "You don't mind Sherlock coming, of course" he said, a little frown on his face.

"No, of course not!" she said "I'll just go unpack my stuff and get changed, you go tell him" she said, jumping up and running excitedly out of the room.


	3. Mark? Who's Mark?

Belle came in, after her shift at work. She opened to door, and frowned. The flat was messy, again. It had been rummaged through, things discarded on the floor. John was sitting on the sofa, oblivious to the carnage of magazines, books, and everything else around him.

"Um, John?" she asked, stepping in, dropping her keys into a little dish by the side.

"What? Oh yeah, hi Belle" John said, giving a little wave. He set his book down on the armchair "how was work?"

"Yeah, was fine" she said slowly "bit slow today so I got off early, what's going on?" she asked.  
>Sherlock came sprinting into the floor, leaping over a pile of music sheets, grabbing Belle's shoulders.<p>

"Do you have some?" he asked, his eyes searching hers.

"Some... What?" she asked, trying to wiggle out of his iron grip.

"Damn it, of course you wouldn't!" he said, jumping up and down angrily.

"Care to explain?" Belle asked john, peering around Sherlock's blue dressing gown.

"Cold turkey, we agreed, remember?" john asked.

"Oh, yeah!" belle said "I forgot. Shame, I just had my last one" she grinned.

Sherlock span slowly. "You. What?" he asked.

"Yeah, hence the chewing gum" she said "John hates the smell of smoke"

"you smoke?" Sherlock asked.

"I'm surprised you didn't guess" she smirked, he glared at her.

"Believe it or not, Belle, my life and brain does not revolve around you" he said, walking around the flat.

"Only because you can't work anything out" she said, peeling her coat off. "And if it's any consolation, I don't smoke every day. Once a week, or something, to clear my mind. But that's not the point, you're addicted, and you are not getting any" she said, sitting across from john and curling up.

Sherlock pranced around the room, arguing with John.

"OH, GOD!" he yelled.

"Does he always act like a hyperactive three year old?" Belle asked.

John nodded. "You'll get used to it" he said.

"That's what I'm afraid of" she said.

"Stop talking about meeeeee!" Sherlock whined.

"Tea?" Belle asked.

"Lovely!" John replied.

"Make sure you use those new coasters I bought though-Mrs Hudson goes crazy if she see's coffee rings on her table" Belle added.

"Not as much as she hates finding heads in the fridge" john laughed.

Belle looked at the fridge. "Is mark still in there?"

"Mark? Who's Mark?" Sherlock asked.

"Mark- the head inside the fridge. C'mon Sherlock, keep up!" Belle grinned.

"Nah, Mark went ages ago" john replied "Don't forget my sugar!"

"Do I ever?" Belle asked, coming back into the room.

As they chatted, Sherlock drew most frantic until he turned to them.

"Please" he said quietly. They both froze. They had seen Sherlock angry, frustrated, calm, annoying as hell, but never... never pleading.

He got on his knees in front of Belle's chair and took her hand gently, and her eyes went wide.

"Please" he said quietly, his blue eyes boring into hers, and belle took a moment to take his unusual face in, the sharp cheekbones, the smooth skin, his dark, curly hair.

"Nope" she said, grabbing a magazine.

He threw himself into the fireplace, grabbing things as Mrs. Hudson entered.

"you-who!" she said, coming in and looking around.

"Afternoon Mrs. Hudson!" Belle greeted her.

"Hello Belle dear, John... Sherlock?" she said, cocking her head to the side as Sherlock rummaged through more things. Belle wasn't paying attention until Sherlock started verbally attacking Mr Hudson, grabbing the harpoon.

"You've been to see Mr. Chatterjee again" Sherlock began, and Belle groaned.

"Sherlock, don't" she warned.

He pointed to Mrs. Hudson's sleeve. "Sandwich shop. That's a new dress, but there's flour on the sleeve. You wouldn't dress like that for baking. Thumbnail: tiny traces of foil. Been at the scratch cards again. We all know where _that_ leads, don't we?"

Mrs Hudson looked offended. Belle threw down her magazine, exasperated.

"Stop" she said. Sherlock merely glanced at her and continued.

Sherlock sniffed at Mrs Hudson." Mmm- Kasbah Nights. Pretty racy for first thing on a Monday morning, wouldn't you agree? I've written a little blog on the identification of perfumes. It's on the website – you should look it up"

Mrs Hudson huffed. "Please"

"I wouldn't pin your hopes on that cruise with Mr. Chatterjee. He's got a wife in Doncaster that nobody knows about."

John sat up "Sherlock!" he said angrily.

"Well, nobody except me" Sherlock added as an afterthought.  
>Mrs Hudson sniffed, teary eyed, obviously upset. "I don't know what you're talking about, I really don't" she stormed out of the flat, the door slamming closed.<p>

Sherlock leapt over the back of his chair from behind it, then perched on the seat, wrapping his arm around his knees like a petulant child. John slammed his newspaper down.

"Idiot" Belle said, running out after Mrs Hudson. She knocked on her door, but she didn't answer. She ran outside, glancing around the streets.

Around the corner, she thought she saw a figure in black. After glancing again, it was gone. She ran after it, and Sherlock, behind the window, watched her go.

She panted, turning around. Nobody around. That was weird. Lately, she'd kept getting the feeling of being watched. She called Mycroft.

"Hey, Mycroft" she said, as he picked up.

"belle, dear, how are you?" Mycroft asked.

"M'fine, just wondering, have you got any leads on Moriarty?" she asked.

He left a pause. "Actually, my people have told me he's gone out of the country. He's found some new obsession, apparently. Good news for you though, he's completely forgotten about you, so you're safe" he said.

Looking at the flat, Belle felt a pang of sadness.

"Does this mean I can come out of hiding?" she asked "Leave the flat?"

"Yes, of course" Mycroft said "I'd stay for a few more days, while I make sure, then you can leave. Get a nice new flat, all to yourself" he said "I bet living with my brother was extremely grating?"

"Of course" she replied, and caught eyes with Sherlock. He was standing, looking curiously at her. She looked down, breaking the eye contact.

"Well, you'll be glad to go, then" he said "Listen, I have something important to do, may I call you later?"

"Yeah, sure" Belle replied "it's fine, I got what I wanted" she said, hanging up, and glancing behind her. No mysterious figure.

When she looked back at the window, Sherlock was gone, and a man stood, ringing the doorbell.

She watched as he entered the flat, and after a minute, followed.

When she arrived, Sherlock was showing off. Again.

"You came up from Devon on the first available train this morning. You had a disappointing breakfast and a cup of black coffee. The girl in the seat across the aisle fancied you. Although you were initially keen, you've now changed your mind. You are, however, _extremely_ anxious to have your first cigarette of the day. Sit down, Mr. Knight, and do _please_ smoke. I'd be delighted"

"oh dear" Belle said. She held out of hand, the man shaking it.

"I'm Belle, Belle Astore" she said.

"Henry Knight. Henry" the man said, with a bit of a stutter.

"yes, yes, you find her attractive" Sherlock snapped.

Henry, belle and John stared at him.

"I'll continue" he said _"_Punched-out holes where your tickets been checked..."  
>"Not now, Sherlock" John said.<br>"The train napkin that you used to mop up the spilled coffee: the strength of the stain shows that you didn't take milk. There are traces of ketchup on it and round your lips and on your sleeve. Cooked breakfast – or the nearest thing those trains can manage. Probably a sandwich- disappointing?" he didn't wait for an answer

"A girl – female handwriting's quite distinctive. Wrote her phone number down on the napkin. I can tell from the angle she was sat across from you on the other side of the aisle. Later –you used the napkin to mop up your spilled coffee, accidentally smudging the numbers. You've been over the last four digits yourself with another pen, so you wanted to keep the number. Just now, though, you used the napkin to blow your nose. Maybe you're not that into her after all. And of course, now you're attentions been caught by Belle, the girl can't compare, obviously, as you've scrunched the napkin. Then there's the nicotine stains on your fingers ... your _shaking_ fingers. I know the signs" Sherlock finished, grinning like a madman.

"The first train from Exeter to London leaves at five forty-six a.m. You got the first one possible, so something important must have happened last night" Sherlock said, his gaze now intense.  
><em>"<em>Now shut up and smoke"  
>Henry lit his cigarette and began to smoke. Sherlock leaned in closer. As Henry continued his story, Sherlock began to suck in the smoke in the air like a hoover.<p>

"Oh, please stop" Belle groaned, as Henry stared at Sherlock.

"It's a strange place, the Hollow. Makes you feel so cold inside, so afraid" he whispered.

"Yes, if I wanted poetry, I'd read John's emails to his girlfriends. Much funnier"

Belle sniggered, and John sent her a look of betrayal.

"I can give you tips" Belle winked at him.

"I don't need... tips!" John said, blushing.

Belle cleared her throat, and quotes one of John's poems

"I think you're beautiful,  
>and not very dull,<br>you have nice hair  
>And I very much care" she said, giggling. "Krissy didn't last very long after she heard that!" belle joked. John glared at her, throwing a cushion. <p>

Sherlock and Henry continued.

"Mr. Holmes, they were the footprints of a gigantic hound!" Henry stated, loudly.

"Say that again" Sherlock said calmly. "Repeat your exact words from a moment ago, exactly as you said them" 

"Mr. Holmes, they were the footprints of a gigantic ... hound"

"I'll take the case" Sherlock said, a slow smile coming on his face.

"you're weird" belle stated, and Sherlock just beamed at her. "And stop smiling like that, it's creepy!" she said, throwing a cushion at him. 

Hours later, bags packed, John and Sherlock left the apartment.

"Not coming?" John asked, as Belle sat in the armchair, contemplating.

"No, don't think so" she said "I mean, I've got work, and loads of stuff to do, so... No" John looked sad for a moment, setting the bags down.

"You're going to be leaving soon, is that right?" he asked.

"Did Sherlock guess?" she asked, and he nodded. "Yeah, I think I'll have to. This apartments too small for three people really, and there's no reason for me to stay anymore"

"You have plenty of reasons to stay" john said.

"Oh really?" she asked "Like what?"

"My sanity, for one" he said, and she gave a grin. "Seriously, having you around it's fun, and not as frustrating, and in his own way, even Sherlock wants you to stay"

"I doubt that" she scoffed.

"I mean it, I think it's the reason he told me, he'd knew I'd try and persuade you" John said.

"I'll think about it" Belle said.

"Well, if you do change your mind, come and find us" John said, picking his bags up, and closing the door.

They left at 10. And 11 o clock, belle opened the fridge. Nothing to eat. She searched the cupboards, then the fridge, then sat down.

She read an article of a magazine. Set it down. Picked it back up. Wondered about Sherlock and John.

At half 11, she sent a text to one of her friends. No reply. Went out, bought some food.

She cooked it, ate it. Turned the telly on. It turned to ten past 12. Cleaned up some of the apartment. Thought about Sherlock and John. Paced. Looked at the clock. Sat down.

Checked on Mrs Hudson. She wasn't in. Made a cup of tea. Finished it, washed the mug. Looked through her clothes. Thought about Henry Knight. Looked around her shoe rack. Discovered a pair of boots, and thought how perfect they'd be if she was in the woods were Sherlock and John were. Sighed again. Half twelve.

Read all of Johns blog. Folded away her clothes. Washed some more clothes. Sighed. Paced.

Turned one o'clock. Went to work. No shifts needed. She walked back. Did her hair. Put make up on. Tried to read a book. Chose another book. Took a shower. Re-applied her make-up. Turned on her i-pod and danced. Tripped over and sat down.

She sat in the armchair, mulling over the details of her day. She missed them. The apartment was too quiet, too empty. She missed John's jumpers, Sherlock's deductions. The sound of the violin, the tapping of the keystrokes. She missed Sherlock's laugh, of Johns smile.

She put her earphones in, and shuffled a song.

'Car is parked, bags are packed, but what kind of heart doesn't look back?' She pressed skip. She couldn't face sad songs reminding her of her flat mates. She knew that if she didn't go to Baskerville, she'd leave. She didn't want to leave.

She made a decision.

She had dressed, packed and got to the train station as quick as she could. Somehow, she managed to make it to a little pub. She walked in and ordered a drink. Two men chatted away to her, a taller, more rounded man, and a short one with a ginger moustache and slightly nasal voice.

"You haven't happened to see two guys around here?" she asked "one tall, dark-haired, show off, the other blonde, wears a jumper-"

"oh yeah, we saw them. Lovely couple" the little one said "John and- Sampson, wasn't it?"

"Sherlock" Belle replied automatically. "Wait- couple?" she asked.

"yep. They were heading out to Baskerville, I think" the taller one said.

"Can I hire a car anywhere around here?" Belle asked.

After urging the driver to speed on, Belle glanced along the long, winding road. She saw Baskerville, a while ahead, and on the road in front, a black jeep. It had to be them.

"I'll give you two hundred pounds if she catch up to that jeep, and another three hundred if you take my stuff back to the pub and grab me a room" she said, breathless. The cabbie looked at her in confusion, and she said "And a extra hundred and a drink on me if you're there when I'm back!"

"Sure, love" he said, speeding up. The black jeep caught up to the gates, and stopped, Belle's car behind them. She jumped out of hers and got into the back middle seat of the jeep.

"Hello lads!" she said, breathless.

"Belle!" John exclaimed.

"Told you she'd come" Sherlock said "Even if you lasted a few more hours than I expected" he said.

She grinned, catching her breath. "you know me Sherlock, I'm a magnet for danger. Now, what are we doing?" she asked.

She saw the military people take Sherlock card and a tiny picture of Mycroft came up. John panicked.

"We'll get caught in five minutes. "Oh, hi, we just thought we'd come and have a wander round your top secret weapons base." "Really? Great! Come in – kettle's just boiled." That's if we don't get shot" he added as an afterthought.

"Sounds interesting. This is all to do with Henry knight?" Belle asked.

"yep" Sherlock said, driving through.

As they got out of the car, a young solider came up.

"Are we in trouble?" he asked, looking at Sherlock.

"Are we in trouble- Sir" Sherlock said, disapprovingly.

"Your ID showed up straight away, Mr. Holmes. Corporal Lyons, security. _Is_ there something wrong, sir?"

"We hope not, corporal. I'm Lieutenant Astore, British Army" Belle said sternly. Lyons glanced at her, doing a double take. She flashed her ID.

"yes... ma'aam- lieutenant" he said, giving a shot bow of the head and then a salute. "It's just we don't get inspected here, you see, sir. It just doesn't happen" he insisted.

Belle could feel both Sherlock and John inspecting her. "I'm guessing Mycroft didn't mention I was in the army?" she murmured.

"Wow" john said, then turned to the young man, Lyons. "Ever heard of a spot check?" John added. Belle folded her arms, enjoying this, her heart pounding.

John showed the corporal some kind of ID_._ "Captain John Watson, Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers"

The corporal came to attention and saluted John, and Belle again.

"Sir. Major Barrymore won't be pleased, sir. He'll want to see you all"

"I'm afraid we won't have time for that. We'll need the full tour right away. Carry on" John said, growing more impressive. Belle could see the corporal wavering.

"That is an _order, _corporal" softly, with steel in her voice.

"yes ma'am" he said, spinning on his heel and walking forward.

"nice" john whispered.

"Yes, that was... good. Very good" Sherlock added.

"Of course" Belle winked at him.

Then they entered the building.


	4. Oh crap, there's trouble!

As they entered, they walked into a lift, with only a few floors- but a floor called 'B' which Sherlock noticed and made a mental note of. They walked into a room, busy with activity. It was brightly lit and the white walls seemed to gleam, matching peoples lab coats as they stood in front of cages filled with animals or hurried about with notebooks and pens, scribbling down as they hurried past.

Many of them had some kinds of face masks, and belle tried to breathe more shallowly, just in case.

The corporal seemed to be worried about something. "If you please, I would appreciate if I could tell Major Barrymore about this, right away sir" he said.

"I'll go with you" belle agreed. He nodded.

"Thank you, ma'aam"

As they walked away she gave him a coy smile "You don't have to call me that all the time, you know. Belle, if you want" she said, and he smiled to her. "Yes. Belle. Nice to meet you" he grinned, and stepped into an office. He came out, frowning.

"Major Barrymore seems to be someplace else, if you would wait here, I'll go and find him" Lyons said. She nodded, and he walked away. For a moment Belle stood there awkwardly, feeling out of place.

Then she heard a tiny beeping. Almost undetectable, but it was there. And annoying. She walked down the corridor, where she noticed it grew louder. Then another corridor, and another, until she found an door with an access point beeping slightly, with a picture of Mycroft and a bunch of numbers and letters, a red light flashing. Belle knew this wasn't good, and sprinted out of the corridor. She saw a lift, and ran to it, hurling into another man in army uniform.

"Fuck" she swore as they both crashed into the wall.

"What the hell are you doing?" he yelled at her "Running around like a child, who are you, how did you get in here?" he asked menacingly, grabbing her shoulders and almost pushing her against the wall. She gaped stupidly for a moment, feeling like a fish out of water. The lift pinged at revealed Sherlock, John, Lyons and another, old man in a lab coat.

"Belle?" John asked

"Are you alright?" Sherlock asked quickly, looking at the scene.

"Sir?" Lyons said, and the man dropped his arms from Belle and she stepped away quickly, panting.

"This is bloody outrageous" he said.

"Major Barrymore?" John asked.

Barrymore ignored him.

"Three unauthorised people wandering around corridors, this is madness!" he said.

Sherlock took belle's arm gently and started leading her away, John following as Barrymore shouted after them.

"We're in trouble" she whispered to Sherlock "The ID, they're going to realise it's fake any second now" she said.

Sherlock got a text. "I know- keep walking" he said quietly, and Belle checked John was behind them. Lyons suddenly slapped a button on a wall. "Sir!" he yelled.

"If he says sir one more time I may have to kill him" belle muttered, making Sherlock give a half smile.

Alarms started to blare out, red lights flashing dramatically and the door locking itself.

"Oh god" Belle moaned.

"What?" Barrymore aked.

"ID unauthorised, Sir" Lyons said.

"Who are you?" Barrymore asked.

Sherlock handed him the ID card and Belle glared at Lyons. The man from before came up behind, and John drew out a notebook, keeping the pretence up.

"Sir, must be some kind of error" she said to Barrymore, he almost hissed at her.

Belle rolled her eyes, clamping her hands over her ears. She didn't pay any more attention, but somehow the man, Frankland, had got them out of trouble.

They walked out, after the door unlocked.

"Thank you" Sherlock said to the man.

"yeah, you saved our bacon" belle grinned, and he smiled.

"This is about Henry knight, isn't it?" he asked "I didn't realise he was going to contact Sherlock Holmes! I know who you really are, of course. I read Dr Watsons blog, thought you'd be wearing the hat, though" he added.

"That wasn't my hat" Sherlock said

"It is a great hat" Belle added.

"Oh- and you, my dear!" Frankland turned to her, and she looked surprised.

"Me?" she replied.

"yes, why, Johns written about you in his latest blog- The Beauty in the Ballroom, wasn't it, Dr Watson? Yes, I can't believe I'm meeting the famous trio! The detective, the Blogger and the Beauty!" he said enthusicastically. Belle gave a flase grin, glaring at John who shrugged, Sherlock laughing.

"Anyway, I knew Henry Knight's dad. I can't really talk now, but take my cell number. Give me a call if I can help" he said nicely, and they all smiled.

Later on, they ended up at Henry Knight's house. It clearly needed a paint job, and although was large and luxurious in some ways, was uninviting and was hidden among a mess of leaves and vines.

As John talked to Henry, Sherlock came up to Belle, who was staring out of the window, twiddling with a lock of her red hair.

"Are you okay?" he asked, and she turned, out of her daydream.

"um, yeah, I'm fine. Are you?" she asked.

"Of course" he said "I just meant... Earlier- that man- Major Barrymore, it was" he coughed awkwardly.

She got his meaning "oh no, he didn't hurt me- I was trying to run to you, and he just grabbed me, it's fine"

"Good, good" Sherlock said, looking out of the window.

"Thank you, though" she added "Though I must say, that's quite a surprise"

"What, me asking how you are?" Sherlock asked.

"Well, yeah" she looked down "I know you don't like me, Sherlock. It's fine, honestly, but yeah. Never mind, I'll go find out what Johns doing" she said, leaving him alone by the window, confused.

All through quizzing Henry, Sherlock kept slyly glancing at Belle. Why on Earth would she think that? He wasn't particularly rude to her, was he? That was just his way. He thought and thought, until he pushed it from his mind and set on the task of the 'giant hound'.

As Dusk fell, the four people set out, torches in hand and adrenaline rushing in their veins, they walked until they found Dewer's hollow.

They said nothing, just trudged along, the leaves crackling slightly under their feet. Belle turned round a one point, and John had stopped walking. She stopped, then lost the other two.

Deciding to tell the others to wait for John, she ran ahead, but they were nowhere to be seen. Frowning, she walked deeper into the woods, the tree's drawing closer together, her weak torch beam flickering, and then cutting out completely.

Luckily, the light of the moon gave her a little of her sight, and she shivered, feeling Goosebumps rise all over her body.

"Sherlock?" she whispered "Sherlock! John? Henry?" When no answer came, she allowed herself to panic a little, then took a deep breath, convincing herself everything was fine.

A thin layer of smoke curled around, or fog of some sort, and she opened her mouth to call out louder.

Then the howl came.


	5. Broken Bones & Arguments

It was faint, and quiet, but it chilled her to the bone. She started to jog back where she came from, but only got lost further in, branches reaching out and scratching her face, getting tangled in her hair.

IT howled again, loud so it was in her ears. She heard the crunch of paws, the beating of paws against ground. Just run. Keep running. Don't breathe, don't think. Find Sherlock. Find John. Even finding Henry would be good, but she couldn't- didn't want to stay alone any longer. The wind rushed past her, cold and harsh, and then another howl echoed out. She screamed.

Running and running, until her heart was beating too fast, her blood pumping all around her body and her weary legs protesting. Luckily she had worn simple jeans and a t-shirt with sturdy boots.

She yelled for her friends, again, until her voice was hoarse, and no answer.

She climbed a tree, scrambling up a branches like she'd done years ago. She calmed down. Screaming like that- she was so childish. Yet, no wonder she was scared, anybody would've been.

"Come on Belle" she whispered to herself "be brave. You're not just a pretty face, you're a woman" she said fiercely, and jumped down.

Her brave facade didn't last long when she heard a crack in her ankle and felt pain beyond any she'd felt before.

She let out another scream, but with her last remaining dignity and courage reigned it in, keeping her lips together in a thin white line. She lay on the floor, head among the leaves, listening to her sharp, pained breaths.

"Get up" she whispered "Come on. Get. Up"

Belle had achieved many things in her life. She'd won awards, shook hands of important business people, done amazing things, but she was the proudest she'd ever been when she stood up, grasping a tree for support.

Maybe it wasn't broken, just sprained. But that click- it could've been anything. Like when people crack their knuckles. She had tears in her eyes, but she wiped them away. She wouldn't let anybody see her like this. She took that first, painful step. "oh, oh, oh" she let out, trying to walk.

Groaning, she managed to limp a few feet when she heard rustling. She felt the chill of being watched, but somehow, she knew it wasn't the hound. It was human. Then a faint call of her name.

She could've cried with relief. Jumped, yelled, reached for the sky, but physically, she couldn't, so she just gave a little smile and called out, in a small voice.

"Sherlock, John, Help!"

And then he came. Maybe she was delirious with pain, or tired and hungry, but Sherlock had never, ever looked more attractive than at that point. Her knight in shining armour. Her Sherlock. The genius, the detective, the man.

He came running, his face pale, scarf tightened around his neck, coat collar up. His face looked worried, shocked, and as he reached for her she fell, her knee's buckling as he caught her, and swung her up as if she were as light as a feather.

He stared deeply into her eyes, so intense she thought she might die if he did it for a second longer. Then John came running up.

"Oh god. Oh my God. Belle. Jesus. What happened? Belle?" he asked, his voice frantic.

He ran up, reaching, knocking her leg and she let out a scream, her resolve vanishing.

"My... my leg" she choked out, "I-oh God, it bloody hurts"

"I think. I know- It's broken" John said, "don't worry, you're safe now"

But Belle felt no relief, until Sherlock clasped her tighter and whispered "Belle, you are safe. Nothing can happen to you now"

Henry came stumbling into the clearing, taking in the sight. "Did you see the hound?" his voice posh and high pitched.

"Well, you must've seen it!" he said again.

"Not now, Henry" John warned.

"Sherlock, you were standing right in front of it, you must've-" Henry began, until Sherlock glared at him.

"SHUT UP!" he roared, stomping off, John following. Henry glanced around, and then ran off after them. Belle curled into Sherlock.

Not one of the people noticed the figure behind them, having seen it all.

Hours later, after John had looked at Belles leg, she had taken a warm soothing bath and changed, she sat in an armchair, next to Sherlock and John.

John got up to get drinks.

"Thank you, Sherlock" belle said "I'm so embarrassed, but thank you"

"I don't see why you would be embarrassed, you had a lot of restraint. You're ankle is broken. Even the most strongest of men might've cried for that, and you handled it" he said, calmly.

"Well, anyway, thank you. What happened to you guys?" she asked, trying to shift a bit "I went to look for John, you and Henry had disappeared and then-" her voice lowered "I heard it. The hound. It frightened me. Like nothing else. So I ran. Climbed a tree. Jumped down, landing on my foot badly, stood still for a couple of minutes and called for you" she said.

"I heard it, too" Sherlock whispered, his face pale. "it was like I was in a trance, I couldn't look away until..."

"Until what?" Belle leaned in, confidentially.

"Until I heard you" he said quietly. "I heard you scream. Then call my name" he said.

Belle looked at him, and their eyes met, neither one saying a word.

John came bustling over, placing the drinks down noisily.

"Are you sure you don't want to go to a hospital yet?" John asked.

"No, honestly. I'll make a splint or whatever, I don't want to bother with all that" Belle said.

"I saw it" Sherlock said, breaking the conversation. "I saw it. A gigantic hound"

The crackling of the fire was the only noise, and Belle took a small sip of her water, soothing her aching throat.

"um, Sherlock, we have to be rational about this, okay? Now you, of all people, can't just..." John began. Sherlock seemed to be blinking a lot.

"Let's stick to the facts" John said quietly.

"Johns right" Belle added "Tonight, we're all tired, exhausted, hungry. Imagination runs wild, it's just your body's reactions or whatever. Let's all sleep on it and talk about it in the morning"

"Once you've ruled out the impossible, whatever remains- however improbable- must be true" Sherlock said softly.

"What does that mean?" John asked

"Isn't that process by elimination?" Belle asked. Sherlock seemed to give her an appraising look. Sherlock picked up his drink, his hand shaking.

"Look at me. I'm afraid John, afraid" he said, not looking at Belle. "Always been able to keep myself distant, divorce myself from feelings. But now my body is betraying me. Interesting yes? Emotions" he finally looked at Belle.

"Calm down, Sherlock" Belle said.

"Yeah, take it easy" John agreed.

Sherlock scoffed. "There's nothing wrong with me. THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH ME!"

The pub went silent, people staring.

Sherlock went into a frenzied, deduction state.

"How about them? The sentimental widow and her son, the unemployed fisherman. She's got a West Highland terrier called Whisky. Not exactly what we're looking for. Look at the jumper he's wearing. Hardly worn. Clearly he's uncomfortable in it. Maybe it's because of the material; more likely the hideous pattern, suggesting it's a present, probably Christmas. So he wants into his mother's good books. Why? Almost certainly money. He's treating her to a meal but his own portion is small. That means he wants to impress her, but he's trying to economise on his own food"

"Well, maybe he's just not hungry" John interrupted.

"Sherlock, please" Belle said, rolling her eyes, which were drooping. Blimey, she was tired.

Sherlock carried on nonetheless. For quite a while pointing out the scarring on the hands, the widows ring, the tiny dog hairs.

"West Highland terrier called Whisky. "How the hell do you know that, Sherlock?" 'Cause she was on the same train as us and I heard her calling its name and that's not cheating, that's listening, I use my senses, John, unlike _some_ people, so you see, I _am_ fine, in fact I've never been better, so just _Leave. Me. Alone" _he finished,gulping down his drink and taking deep breaths.

"And why would you listen to me? I'm just your friend" John said.

"I don't have _friends_" Sherlock said, venom in his voice.

"Naah. Wonder why?" John said, getting up and walking away. Belle almost went to get up after him, but her leg restricted her and she settle back down in the armchair.

"Nicely done, Sherlock" Belle sighed.

"Why do you always stick up for him?" Sherlock snapped at her.

"Because he does nothing wrong, unlike you who is cruel, rude and vicious to everyone, all the time!" she said.

"Then why do you and John constantly pest me? I don't want you around, I've told you both to leave me alone, thankfully John has, so if you don't mind, why don't you just limp off and go flirt with some guy?" Sherlock said.

Belle stood for a minute.

She opened her mouth, and then closed it, walking away.


	6. Why would Belle date Lestrade!

_Quick Authors note: Hello fellow Sherlockians! Hope you're all enjoying the story so far, I should be updating frequently, but if I am not, feel free to post lovely reviews persuading me to! Thank you to the people who have favourite this story, and to those who have reviewed. This part of the story obviously takes place during the Hounds of Baskerville episode (I have used various sources for the script, mostly my own hearing after watching the episodes myself!__) but will carry on until the fall *sobs* _

_And Jim should be appearing in a few chapters, hold on me dearies!_

_Anyway, let me know how you're liking Belle so far, and suggestions/praise/critism, anything. Thanks again._

* * *

><p>The next morning, she felt better. Her leg hurt like a bitch, and she was still hurt by Sherlock's comments and worried about John, but felt better with sleep. The couple in the pub had given her a pair of crutches, which she was extremely thankful for, and her leg was bandaged and fine.<p>

She decided to go and pay old Henry a visit. She showered quickly and got changed into simple jeans and an oversized knitted jumper, pulling her hair up in a tight ponytail, showing off her heart-shaped face. She felt sorry for Henry, she hated when the public make fun of people who are crazy.

"Morning" she said, as he opened the door "Thought you could do with a visit. You look terrible" she said, coming straight in.

"Oh. Right. Thanks" he said. "tea?" he asked, and she shook her head.

"No, just water, thanks. You look like you could do with some coffee" she suggested. "I'll make it"

"Oh, thank you, terribly kind" he yawned.

"You know, this is a lovely house, but I think you may have been neglecting it" she said, hopping around the kitchen in her crutches.

"I suppose I might've" he admitted, drinking the coffee. "I have some white paint downstairs for the porch, but I never got around to it"

"We'll we could do that now, and have a little chat!" she said, hoping to get some new information out of him that might help.

An hour later, the yellowing porch walls were painted a fresh, bright white, and the house had already improved. Belle pushed away some of the weeds on the door. "You should take you're mind off things by doing physical work" she said.

"that's a perfectly good theory" henry said "And it might help me"

"I know it would!" belle said "Look at you, smiling already!"

"I think it's the company more than the paint" he started to murmur, so Belle couldn't hear, but looked at her as she got a stroke of white paint on her cheek.

"Well, now that's done, I think we deserve a well-earned cup of tea!" she said, and grabbed her crutches. As Henry made the tea, Belle flicked water at him, then hopped out of the kitchen and into the corridor quickly, squealing as he chased her with a tea towel. Suddenly, the door swung open, revealing Sherlock. Her face fell.

"um, listen Henry, I have to go, today was fun though" she said, turning to him.

"yes" he agreed "And thank you. I know you did it because you are one of the most kind, genuine people I have ever met. Hope your leg get's better" he said, and she waved, walking- or limping- straight past Sherlock.

She was sitting on a bench outside church when she heard Sherlock and John talking. Admitting she still felt slightly bitter that John had forgiven Sherlock, she stayed silent.

"So you've got something to go on, then? Good luck with that" john said, not as cheerful as normal, and Belle pursed her lips. Maybe things were still a little weird with the other two, then.  
><em><br>"_Listen, what I said before, John. I meant it" Sherlock called after John. Belle tried to stay out of sight.  
><em><br>"_I don't have friends" Sherlock stated.

"I've just got _one_"

John nodded, then walked away. Belle bit her lip, which had started quavering. "Don't you dare cry" she whispered to herself "You don't even like the man, why would you care if he doesn't consider you a friend? He's annoying, and mean, and people don't like him. You've plenty of other friends, anyway" but tears filled her eyes. She dropped one of her crutches, and if bashed against the stone of the floor.

She grabbed it, and got away as quickly as she could.

"belle, wait!" Sherlock called.

She stopped, took a breath, turned around, putting as much hate in her eyes and venom in her voice and hissed "Stay away from me, Sherlock Holmes. I don't want you near me. Just- just get away"

Then she turned and walked away, the tears falling freely down her face.

No wonder he doesn't like her. She's just a pretty face. Useless. One of Mycroft's toys. A distraction for a day or two. Stupid. Silly. Foolish. Weak.

Sherlock caught up with her. Damn her and her broken leg.

"Look, what on Earth is the matter- are you crying? Belle, what's wrong?" he said, concern in his voice and those handsome eyes of his.

"Nothing, just- look, I told you, I don't need you! Please- stop" she said, trying to stop crying. Sherlock took her hands.

"Belle, please tell me why you are this upset"

"Why should you care?" she threw at him "You only have one friend. John"

"Oh" realization dawned on Sherlock. "You think I- don't care... about you?"

"I know you don't" she said.

"Why would you think that?" he asked

"People you constantly undermine me and try to scrutinize me instead of just talking to me!" she sighed "Instead of trying to work out why I wear a certain perfume or do something why don't you just ask me? Why can't you learn stuff about me from a conversation rather than a deduction?" she said.

"I never realised" he said.

"it's fine" she said, starting to walk away. Sherlock ran ahead of her, and then walked past her, bumping her slightly.

"Oh, sorry miss! Didn't hurt you, did I?" he asked. Belle stared at him in confusion.

"My names Sherlock Holmes. I live at 221B Baker street, with two incredible flatmates who I should appreciate more" he said, and Belle gave a watery smile. "And you are?" he asked.

"My names Belle" she said, and he linked his arm with hers.

"Well, Miss Belle, tell me about yourself" he said "I love solving crimes myself, from the common Sudoku to world famous mysteries, what about you?"

She laughed. "Well, I work in a little ice-cream shop" she began "I love reading, adventure romances particularly, making huge collages of pictures, beaches and seas, the feeling of grass and the sun, drinking tea, making mixed C-DS, painting and solving crimes with two gentlemen I happen to know" she said.

"What a simplistic yet fascinating life you lead" Sherlock said, charmingly. "And tell me, these collages you make- have you made one recently?"

"no, I haven't" she agreed "but I will. I may even dedicate it to a certain consulting detective I know"

They talked for over an hour, about their history, family, likes and dislikes, and belle had never felt more closer to Sherlock.

They met up with john, and walked back to the pub. A familiar figure was leaning against the counter.

"Lestrade!" Belle yelled, running- (limping very fast) up to him, throwing her arms about his neck. He grinned.

"Belle? I didn't know you would be here!" he said. Sherlock and John caught up with the two.

"Belle, you know Lestrade?" John asked.

"Of course, we go way back" Belle said. "We used to date" she winked at Lestrade, adn he kept his hand about her waist.

Sherlock spluttered and John's mouth dropped open.

"You two?" John managed to ask.

"Well, it was briefly, we decided we'd be better as friends, didn't we Greg?" Belle chuckled.

Sherlock managed to pull himself together. "What the hell are you doing here?" he burst out.

"Nice to see you too" Lestrade said, removing his arm from Belle's waist as Sherlock glared at it.

"Hello, Greg" John said.

"I'm waiting for an explanation Inspector" Sherlock said rudely.

"I'm on holiday" Lestrade said casually, trying to act aloof.

"You're brown as a nut, clearly back from you're holidays. Oh, this is Mycroft, isn't it?" he groaned "One mention of Baskerville and he sends my handler down to... to spy on me- _incognito" _he pulled a face "Is that why you're calling yourself Greg?"

"That's his name" John said plainly, and Sherlock looking genuinely shocked.

"Is it?" he asked.

"His first name? Well, it's not inspector, is it?" Belle laughed. "No shit, Sherlock" and he just looked at her.

"Actually, we need you" John said, showing a receipt for a lot of meat. "nice scary Inspector from Scotland yard who can put in a few calls might come very handy" john mused.

Later on, Sherlock came over, with tea for Belle and coffee for John.

"I don't really take sugar" Belle said politely.

"Me either" John agreed, until Sherlock had a hurt expression, so they kept on drinking.

"Why would Belle date Lestrade?" Sherlock asked John later, as they watched the two catch up. His face was an expression of incredulous disbelief.

"Why not?" John asked "He obviously liked her, probably still does, they're good friends, worked together, been through a lot, he seems nice, so yeah, why not?"

Sherlock took a minute to comprehend this. "But it's Lestrade!" he burst out.

"Look, Sherlock, just think of it this way- at least she wasn't dating Anderson" John said. Sherlock's eyes bugged out and he went to get another drink.

After they had all finished, Belle popped into the toilet, and when she joined them outside, Sherlock was on the phone. "We're going back to Baskerville" he said, then talked on the phone.

"Hello brother dear" he said, with a falsetto voice and cheerful smile on. "How _are _you?" he said, so sickly sweet and fake that Belle grinned. Yet again, they were back in the car, and on the road to Baskerville.

The drive was mostly silent, a little chit chat here and there, but mostly peaceful. Belle decided to drive, and Sherlock decided he hated her driving.

It was too wild, too unpredictable. So he sat in the back, arms crossed, frightened scowl on his face, glaring at John for letting the maniac take the wheel. They got to Baskerville and split up immediately, Sherlock going to Barrymore, and Belle and John searching different labs.

Belle walked along the rows of empty cages. Nothing there. She turned back, swiped her badge. The door wouldn't open again. She tried again, it flashed red. She groaned, looking for another exit.

That's when things got freaky. The lights went extremely bright, then dark, an alarm type thing went off. It made her head pound, and she called out a few times. Then it went quiet. Too quiet. Something rattled ahead of her. Claws seemed to skitter and tap at the hard floor.

"Oh crap" Belle whispered. She seemed to shrink into herself. With her crutches, she managed to limp away from where the sounds were coming from.

A low growl, and she ran to a corner, putting her hands over her ears.

"Stop it stop it stop it" she said, over and over, like an insane person. She clambered onto one of the tables, then piled a few cages and climbed up then. She tried to get signal, and quickly called Sherlock.

"What's up, Belle?" he said casually. "Found anything?"

"Sherlock, I'm locked in" she whispered "And the hound is in here, with me"

"What?" he asked. "okay, okay, don't worry, where are you?" he asked, his voice urgent.

"I don't know!" She let out a dramatic wail "Oh my God, it's going to kill me" she stated. "And I don't know where John is"

"John's fine, I was just talking to him" Sherlock said "Okay, keep quiet, but keep talking, do you understand? Now, is it in one of the labs?" he asked.

"yes" she whispered "With cages. It's big, as well. Please, Sherlock, please come get me"

The creature growled near her and she tried not to whimper.

"It's next to me, Sherlock, I can see it! Red, glowing, it's going to see me, or hear me any minute, please. I can't run, my leg hurts too much"

"Belle, you are safe, I won't let any harm come to you" he said, determined. "I am going to find you"

"It's going to be too late" she said softly.

"Would I let you get hurt?" Sherlock asked.

"How should I know?" Belle replied, her voice going a few octaves higher.

"Belle, trust me" he said.

Suddenly, as the beast turned and lunged at her, the lights shone brightly, and she saw Sherlock's face, searching for her, spotting her and running towards her.

"Oh shit, fuck!" she said, gasping for air. He reached up and she fell into his arms, holding onto him like a lifeline. His hands grasped her waist firmly as if he would never let him go, and she felt his familiar cloak around him, as she sobbed, hysterically.

"Are you okay?" he asked frantically.

"Yes, yes, it's in here, Sherlock, we have to get out!" she cried, trying to pull him away. He stood firm. "Sherlock, come on!" she yelled.

"Just calm down. We have to go get John" he said.

"What?" she asked.

"I'll explain then" he said "I couldn't leave you, but it's all fine now. Come on"

And they went into another lab, where John yelled from inside a cage.

"Jesus Christ it was the hound" he yelled, grasping at Belle. "Are you okay" she nodded.

She turned tearful eyes on Sherlock. "Wait- how could he have seen the hound if it was in there with me?"

"Wait a moment" Sherlock said. He observed the both of them, the hysterical girl and the frenzied man.

"It's all okay" Sherlock said calmly.

"No it's not!" John shouted "IT'S NOT OKAY!"

"Oh my" Belle muttered "That was awful, so horrible. I'm going to be traumatised for life. I don't even like dogs"

"Huge red eyes?" Sherlock asked. They both nodded. "Glowing?" , and they nodded again.

"Wrong" he said. "I made up the bit about glowing. You saw what you expected to see because I _told_ you. You have been drugged. We have _all_ been drugged" he said.

"Drugged?" Belle asked wearily.

"Can you walk?" he asked, and she nodded.

"Come on then" he said, walking into Stapleton's lab.

"Drugged" John sighed.

"Tell me about it" Belle rolled her eyes "I had enough of that in college"

John and Sherlock stared at her, and she shrugged, moving ahead.

John and the science woman were having probably some kind of heart to heart, and Sherlock was doing his microscope thing, so Belle felt very tired. She laid her head down on the desk, hair splayed out, closing her tired eyes.

"I should've bloody stayed at the flat" she said quietly, to herself.

She shot up when Sherlock threw one of the tiny slides at the wall, yelling furiously. They all had to leave, so Sherlock could go to his mind palace.

"Must be nice, in his palace" Belle said to John as they left "Where everyone is as obnoxious as he is" and John chuckled. A little while later, Belle slipped in with a drink and some food, put it on the desk quietly as he motioned with his hands. He looked insane. As she walked out, he opened his eyes.

"Do you still like Lestrade?" he asked, blue eyes searching her face.

"w-what?" She spluttered, confused at his outburst.

"You- Lestrade- together?" he asked plainly, trying to think of the right sentence.

"Oh, no" she said "Blimey, course not! It was years ago when we- it wasn't even- I didn't- it wasn't like that" she said, running her hands through her hair and looking down.

"Oh" Sherlock said "I was just wondering. You're very young, for him, you know"

"Well, yeah" Belle said "I've always been mature for my age, you know, being around Mycroft and all that. He never mentioned having a brother, you know"

Sherlock blinked "No, I don't suppose there was a reason to mention me. We're arch-enemies. He paid John to spy on me" he said, and Belle wasn't particularly surprised, she knew Mycroft, but she didn't ponder that a little.

"I was sixteen, when I met Mycroft. He knew everything about me" she said "Why?"

"The only reason Mycroft would bother to find out about a sixteen year old is if she was special" Sherlock said "What about your parents?"

She looked a little sad. "They were important people, I know that. They had me always preparing for the worst. I learnt to talk different languages, fight, save money quickly, hot-wire a car. Lie. I was about 15 when they got into the car accident. At home, waiting for them. Their dinner was ready on the table. I waited for hours. I rang my only aunt, then the police. We discovered what had happened- they had been killed instantly"

"I- I'm sorry" Sherlock said, looking down.

"It's a funny thing, bad news" she said "Instead of crying, or praying, I just kept thinking that the dinner had gone cold, and no one was going to eat it" she said, her voice low and quiet "Silly, I know. But I still haven't been able to eat spaghetti since"

"Belle, I am so-"

"It's fine, Sherlock. Honestly. Forgive me, I didn't mean to spring that on you, I just, get caught up in the memories sometimes" she said "Lunch is on your table" she said, and walked out.

Sherlock sat there for a long time. He tried a few times to go back to his mind palace, but all he kept thinking of was a little girl, waiting for her parents who would never come.


	7. Icecream, Birthdays and Creeps

Back at the flat, Belle's foot had healed completely. She woke up in the morning, the flat completely quiet. She got dressed in a few simple clothes, brushed through her hair and put a few quick coats of mascara was, grabbed her bag and walked out of the bedroom ready for work.

Sherlock was laying on the sofa, asleep, one hand dangling on the floor.

Belle smirked at the sight, she had to admit he looked cute. He breathed in heavily, his chest rising and falling, and she caught herself. Watching Sherlock sleep? That was... different. Unusual. Odd.

She walked out, and headed to work.

Gary, her boss, smiled at her. "Morning, Belle!"

"Morning, Gary!" she agreed "Where's Melody and Dan?"

"Melody's got a hangover, coming in at 12" Gary rolled his eyes "And Dan should be here any minute now" he said, as they started unpacking all the things.

Belle's work, 'le petit glacerie' which translated the the little ice cream shop, was amazing. The most popular in London, with the friendly employees and delicious treats. Chocolate fountains in the window beckoned to both children and adults alike, rows upon rows of ice-creams such as chocolate, vanilla, mint, bubblegum and hundreds more, and rows of jars of nuts, chocolate drops, sprinkles and other nibbles.

As Belle wiped down some of the tables, Dan came in. Dan was about 25 years old, quite gorgeous and extremely gay. He came in, slapping belle on her bum and pushing his shades up.

"Dan, it's the middle of winter, why are you wearing sunglasses?" Belle asked, laughing.

"Fashion, honey!" he said. "And guess what!"

"What?" Gary asked, coming out of the doors.

"I was at some club last night, hittin' it up, and I reckon we've got about 20 more customers!" Dan asked, coming behind the till as a little girl and boy and their mother came in, awestruck.

"We've plenty of customers already" Gary said "We don't want to be rushed off our feet"

"Oh, chill gazza!" Dan laughed, giving the children the ice cream.

It was a busy day. Even when Melody came in, scowl on her face and a terrible headache, they were running around.

Belle was at the counter, serving the ice cream with Dan when a man came up.

"Oh, hullo" he smiled. He was very tall, handsome with light blonde hair and brown eyes.

"Hey there" Belle smiled "Need some help?"

"Ooh, Yes please, I'm not sure, there are so many choices!" he said, and she grinned.

"Well, if you're really not sure, I'd recommend a three scoop- your classic chocolate, a neutral banana and our newest flavour- Marshmallow, which is actually awesome"

The man laughed. "I'll take your word. I'll have that then- whatever it's called!"

"Considering I just invented it, we'll call it a Belle" she said, winking. She didn't usually flirt, but she hadn't had a date in months.

"Well thank you Belle, I'm Sebastian, Sebastian Moran" he held out his hand, and she shook it, getting his ice cream ready.

After he paid, sat and ate his ice cream, fiddling with his napkin, and stealing glances at belle, he got up and left with a cheery smile.

"Well, hunk a dunk!" Dan muttered to Belle "you've caught yourself one big fish, my girl" he said.

She went to clean up his table, and there was a little business card, Sebastian had left a little note-

_I did know what ice-cream I wanted all along,  
>but you're hard to say no to. Call me sometime.<em>

Belle picked up the note, almost squealing. She showed to note to Dan, Gary, and Melody, who all smiled and congratulated her.

Melody grinned at her. Belle and melody were really good friends, despite being opposites. Melody was a complete punk, with dyed pink and purple hair, lot's of piercings and tattoos and an almost bitchy attitude, but had a soft spot for Belle, and she patted her on the back.

"I could give you a makeover, if you want?" she offered. Belle envisioned herself in purple lipstick with no eyebrows, and just grinned "nah, I'm good thanks, Mel. Though, next weeks it's my birthday, I'm having everyone round for a little party- you free?"

"Of course" melody leapt up, then shrunk down, clutching her head "Wouldn't miss it. I get to meet the famous Sherlock and John, right?"

"yep. Though, remember what happened to Dan last time" Belle warned.

"What happened to Dan?" Dan asked.

"You met Sherlock" Belle stated flatly.

Dan pursed his lips. "What an attractive piece of obnoxious twat" he sighed "Such a waste"

"you'll still come- Friday, okay" belle told him.

"Of course, sweet cheeks. I'll get Gary to bring a cake"

"fabulous!" Belle smiled. She finished her shift and went home, calling Lestrade on the way.

"Yo, Greggykins" she said.

"That's DI Inspector" he said sternly, and then added "Howdy belle"

"Come round on Friday, it's my birthday. Wear something nice, bring me a present. See you later!" She called, and heard him laugh through the phone as she hung up, then called Mycroft.

"You busy Friday?" she asked him after their formal greeting.

"Well, it's is the Cuban elections, buuuuuut, I suppose I can blow that off if you need me?" he asked.

"Mycroft. You know what day is it" she said in a warning voice.

"You're birthday. Of course!" Mycroft said. "I should be able to attend for an hour or two" he said.

She found her keys, getting into the flat "thanks, Mycroft" and said bye, hanging up. Sherlock zoomed into view, looming in front of her face, making her shriek.

"Why were you talking to my brother?" Sherlock asked.

"He's coming round, Friday, along with Lestrade and some work friends" she said.

"why?" Sherlock asked, appalled.

"It's my birthday" she said, simply.

Friday arrived, and Belle woke with a happy smile on her face. She stretched, yawning and stumbling into the shower.

She decided to straighten her hair for once, spritzing herself with her nicest perfume and wearing a tad more make-up than usual.

She looked in her wardrobe and draws, finally selecting a small, bright blue dress which matched her eyes. It made her look slim and curvy, and the skirt would swirl out as she walked or span.

She put on a a ring and some earrings, pulling on some small blue pumps, and walked into the living room.

Sherlock sat in the armchair, smiling at her. He was wearing a nice suit, and John was on the other, wearing a white jumper. He came up and gave her a hug.

"Happy birthday, Belle!" he said, almost jumping.

"thanks John" She said, grinning like crazy.

She went over to Sherlock, and he stood. They both stood, for a moment, until he leaned in, kissing her on the cheek slightly.

"Happy birthday, Belle. You look lovely" he said in a low, almost gravelly voice. Belle blushed, looking down.

"How old are you, anyway?" John asked, and Belle shot him a glare as she perched on the arm of the chair Sherlock was sitting on.

"Never ask a woman that, John" She warned "And too young for you, anyway!" she gave a little giggle.

"So, breakfast?" John asked.

"Ooh, yes please!" Belle asked "I would like... bacon. And eggs. And tomatoes. With French toast"

John laughed "Well, I know Sherlock is amazing at French toast, he can do it" and Sherlock- for once- didn't say anything but complied.

As Sherlock left the room, John turned to Belle. "I, um, got you something" he said, showing her a terribly wrapped present. She hugged him tightly. "Thanks John"

She opened the wrapped gift, and revealed a few books, tied together with string.

"I hope you like them" he said worriedly !I heard you mention them, and they were quite hard to find, but-"

He was cut off as Belle hugged him tightly "Thank you- thank you- thank you!" she said, looking through them.

The whole day went perfectly, Belle popping out quickly to buy some food while John and Sherlock were sent the task of cleaning the flat. They set up the drinks and food, and the door rang. Lestrade came in, beaming, gift in hand, hugging Belle.

"Happy birthday, Belle" he grinned, and she gave him a drink, and opened her present. They were a beautiful pair of high heels, and she smiled, delighted.

"I said I owed you a pair!" he said, and she laughed, throwing her head back.

"Once, Lestrade was trying to catch some killer or other, and get's me involved while I was out with my friends, making me run miles after this guy in these killer heels, and I ended up ruining them, one heel snapped off and both covered in mud, all scuffed. We got the guy in the end, but yeah, he owed me a pair" Belle told, wiping a tear of laughter away.

Mrs Hudson came up, bringing a knitted jumper for Belle, and some cucumber sandwiches.

Shortly, all her work friends arrived together, Melody giving her a make-up set, Dan some hair tongs and accessories and Gary bringing in a magnificent cake in the shape of an ice cream.

Molly Hooper came as well, giving her friend Belle a little basket filled with soaps, make-up and chocolate.

The party seemed to be going okay, when Mycroft arrived, a beautiful dress wrapped amazingly, which must've cot more than the flat.

The party was in full swing when Lestrade and Mycroft started having a silly argument. Then Sherlock got involved, then John, and the two of them started arguing. Molly tried to stick up for Sherlock, who insulted her, so she sat in the corner, with teary eyes. Dan almost leant on the cake so Gary had a go at them, and Melody yelled at the both of them, and stomped off, pouring herself a drink. Mrs Hudson got a headache and went alone into the kitchen and Belle watched the scene with tearful eyes, getting less sad and more angry until she yelled at the top of her lungs. "ALL OF YOU, STOP IT RIGHT NOW!"

The music had suddenly gone to a quiet song, and every stopped, turning to look at her, even Mrs Hudson peering from behind the door.

She glared at the group of people. "How could you?" she said "One day, I wanted, full of happiness, but you've all spoiled it. This was a really important day for me, and I'm terribly sorry if I'm acting spoilt and annoying, but it wasn't much to ask. You could've just not argued or got annoyed, but you did. So thank you, guys" she said, storming out of the flat.

She walked down the street, tears of anger in her eyes.

It was freezing and probably about to rain, and her arms were probably turning blue, but she sat on one of the benches outside. Hopefully everyone would just go home, Sherlock and John could go to bed and she could pack and immigrate to another country tomorrow.

When someone came to sit next to her, she expected John. Maybe Lestrade, or Mrs Hudson, but not the consulting detective with the funny hat. Not Sherlock.

"I'm sorry" he said, simply, plainly. They sat for a moment.

"It's fine" she replied "Just an emotional day, I s'pose"

"No, this was an important day for you, everyone together" he said, struggling with the words "And we- we're sorry. You left so quickly no one could apologise" he said.

"Well, you know me Sherlock, I love dramatic exits" she said, leaning back and looking at the stars.

"We do appreciate you, you know. And care for you" he said.

"I know. Thank you, Sherlock"

"I have a gift for you" he said, reaching into his pocket and bringing out a shiny, purple wrapped present with a red bow.

She took it and opened it carefully, her hands trembling slightly.

Sherlock had never given anyone a gift. Except now.

A black box was revealed and she slid the lid open to reveal a heart locket, and gasped.

"Oh, I love ti" she whispered "it's beautiful"

"On the back, one of your favourites quotes is engraved" Sherlock said, quietly.

Belle read it aloud. In dainty script it read '_Two roads diverged in a wood and I – I took the one less traveled by'_

"By Robert Frost" she said softly. "The road not taken"

"I have to admit, I spent a long time wondering what to get you" Sherlock said as she stared at the gift. "I knew that you'd like something pretty- but not just pretty, something personal. Unique. So I got this" he said. She finally met Sherlock's eyes, tears threatening to spill over.

He reached out and she lifted her hair and he carefully put it on, his hands brushing her soft, pale neck.

"It's the best present" she said to him, turning and realising how close he was, smelling like Sherlock, of mint and paper and just... Sherlock.

She hugged him and his arms enclosed around hers, and they stayed there quite comfortably for a while, until she pulled away. "We'd better get back" and he nodded, looking almost dazed, blinking, confused.

"Of course" he replied. "I actually have to go and do something- I'll see you at the flat later"

"Oh- okay" Belle said, stepping away.

As she was walking, Sherlock turned and called out to her.

"Belle"

She turned. "Yeah?"

"You once overheard me saying to John he was my only friend. I meant it"

She blinked. That was uncalled for.

"You're not just a friend"

A bit harsh.

"You're so much more" he said, and she blinked.

"Thank you" and turned away, not sure of how to take it, walked home.

Later that night, everyone went home, content and happy, drunk and laughing.

After finishing his third slice of cake, John went to bed. Belle shortly followed, slipping into her own bedroom. It was pitch-black, and she crawled into the covers, putting her face down on the pillow- and colliding with an object. She turned the light on.

On her pillow was another present. Red, shiny material, black rope bow.

She opened it. There was a single photograph, a close up.

It was of Belle.

She remembered that day. She wore a bright yellow dress, and had a really good day, Sherlock had just found a case. It was after she had finished work, and she was crossing the road. The picture was of Belle, her hair blowing in the wind, dress a splash of colour against the gray road, her face laughing.

Belle shivered in her bed. She looked in the box and on the back, nothing. Just that photograph.

She had no idea what it meant, except she was getting a very negative vibe from it. Like the feeling of being watched.

She put the so called present in her draw, away from her bed, and after a while- went to a thankfully, dreamless sleep.


End file.
